


Fire and Ice

by TheCoffeeBadger



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: 12 days of Carnivale 2018, Gen, I suppose it's slash??, M/M, Sophia thinking on the relationship between Frankie and Jimmy, Stream of Consciousness, idk tbh, me working out my feelings about the boys through sophia, this is also nearly a year old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 16:33:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21148784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCoffeeBadger/pseuds/TheCoffeeBadger
Summary: Sophia ruminates on the temperaments of her friends, James Fitzjames and Francis Crozier.





	Fire and Ice

“Fitzjames and Crozier? But how on earth do they put up with each other?” gasps Cousin Emily, becoming yet another scandalised houseguest after the subject had inevitably turned to the not-so-recent return of the crews of Erebus and Terror, and in particular the living arrangements of the two surviving captains.

“Surprisingly well, actu…” I begin before the inevitable

“But they’re like chalk and cheese! Like, like…”

“Fire and ice?” I say, trying my best to keep my tone helpful rather than bored.

“Sophia!” Auntie Jane admonishes, I was obviously not as successful as I hoped.

“I do apologise Emily. I have no idea what came over me.” I say quickly.

“It’s quite all right Sophia, you took the words right out my mouth!" Emily replies, thankfully saving me an earful from Auntie Jane, "Though, I must admit I am rather tired after the journey down. May I excuse myself to lay down a while Auntie?”

“Of course, Dear! The maid will show you to your room.” Auntie Jane rings the bell and Beth dutifully comes to show Emily the way.

“And I think I am going to write another letter to Mr Dickens. Perhaps he has had a chance to rethink the idea of me writing my memoirs” Auntie Jane tells me, with a rather manic gleam in her eye. Poor Mr Dickens, I do hope she doesn’t get too carried away.

And thus, I am left alone in the parlour with nothing but my thoughts. Which naturally turn to the aborted conversation. Of all the comparisons between James and Francis that I have heard, “fire and ice” seems to be the most popular. But it does beg the question, who is the fire and who is the ice?

James would seem to be a good contender for fire with his warm manner. The way he greets new friends like old ones, or his boundless energy that gets him all kinds of situations. Or even the way he always just seems to sparkle, as if he were made fireworks or diamonds or even starlight. James is a sunbeam, warm yet impossible to pin down.

All of these traits certainly point to fire when compared with Francis’ cold exterior. His reliance on strict formality makes new friends rare and old friends rarer still. Francis does not sparkle like James. He is not effervescent; he cannot hide his tiredness or boredom well. Francis often appears as though made of stone, steadfast yet unfeeling.

I saw them argue once, before the doomed voyage. Their roles are quite reversed in the heat of the moment. James’ entire demeanour becomes cold, his face almost passive; as though he could not care less about the argument. His face is cat-like, and ever-so-slightly mocking. As though he were asking any bystander ‘when will this old twit stop droning on?’. His sharp wit only adds to the icy image, as he viciously mocks his not only his opponent's point of view but also his opponent themself.

Francis, on the other hand is like an avenging angel. Self-righteous anger emanates from his very core, his face barely containing his rage. His eyes shine dangerously. His tone is harsh and his words are designed to wound. But not in the slow, insidious way that James’ do. Francis’ words are like a slap, they sting but leave no mark; James’ are like ice burn, one doesn’t even notice their effect until the skin is already inflamed.

But what do I _truly_ know of these men I call my friends?

The real Francis is secretive and shy, but kind and warm when he finds a way to show it. He may not sparkle, but his eyes do. I have seen them often shine with mirth and concealed laughter, and once, I saw them shine with unshed tears. Francis’ hands were always warm and he laughed when I told him that his feet must then always be cold.

The real Francis is stubborn but seldom cruel. He is a man plagued by demons. He is a man trying to escape his demons.

The real James is a man who secretly cares, truly and deeply. He is a natural-born orator and performer. I have seen him have an entire dinner party’s rapt attention as they ignored their food to listen to his tales of derring-do at the edge of their seats. Some of the servants even nearly abandoned their duties to hear him speak. He is a man trying find a way to feel seen. 

The real James is mortal. He is a scared and lonely little boy who never has never really known his origins. He is a man trying to escape the accidents of his origins.

I suppose neither of them are fully hot or fully cold. They are human men, who are complex and paradoxical. They are two pieces from different puzzles whose patterns unexpectedly fit to form something beautiful and unique.

They are my friends, they are in love and, most importantly of all, they are happy.

Well, I should probably check up on those last two facts. Time to invite them round to tea again.

**Author's Note:**

> The Cousin Emily here is Emily Tennyson, the eventual wife of Alfred, Lord Tennyson and a creative talent in her own right. She was actually Sophia's cousin, by way of Sir John's sister, Sarah! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! If you want to scream with me about the boys then drop me a comment or hit me up on tumblr @iamthecoffeebadger <3


End file.
